Eric's Beijing Diary

Hard to believe that it is already seven years ago that I moved to the East Valley. I actually left North Dakota right before Christmas in December of '96. I had been in the trucking industry for seven years when I decided to hang it up. Why? Because it was time. The cloud by day, and the fire by night; when it moves, you have to follow. Coming north out of Iowa, I slid into the Twin Cities on almost solid ice, and parked at the Mall of America next to a huge mountain of snow that had been cleared from the parking lot. I made my way up toward the terminal in Fargo, hoping to get my truck cleaned out and get out of town before the blizzard hit. I didn't make it. I got into town alright, and got the load off, but then the snow really started to come in. I was forced to spend the night in my tractor, parked at the terminal. Of course I was nice and warm, because I ran the engine up to 1000 rpms as usual, and kept the heat on. That old 430 Detroit put out plenty of heat, so I wasn't at all worried about that. It was the idea of being stranded when I still had to move out of my apartment in Williston, and I wanted to get down to Arizona for Christmas.

The next morning, I woke up, and made my way through the blizzard to the shop. The news wasn't good. There was no sign of a letup. All the freeways were barricaded. Five hundred dollar fine if you went around the barricade. And it would be fruitless, because you wouldn't get anywhere. Greg Miers, another driver was there, and fortunately he had a four-wheel-drive pickup. He also had an ice chest in his truck. All he had left in his ice chest was some beer and braunschweiger (He was a good German Lutheran). I'm going to save you a little trouble. If you're ever walking into a restaurant or coffee shop in the morning, and you're trying to decide between beer and braunschweiger, and just about anything else in the world, take my advice: Pick whatever else is on the menu.

It wasn't the most apetizing meal, but it was nourishment (well, at least the braunschweiger). Greg and I spent the next two days driving around Fargo, discussing theology and water towers, and going to the mall. We couldn't leave town. We could barely get into Olive Gardens for supper. The place was packed. Finally the storm let up, and I was able to leave. I drove to Bismarck, and then Bill and I drove to Williston and cleaned out my apartment. I will never forget the last night I spent in North Dakota. We had finished everything up, and I wanted to get going right away, but Bill was tired, and Terry had invited us to stay in Auntie Serina's basement for the night, so I decided to take him up on it. I was getting ready for bed, and probably quite preoccupied, when I almost ran into one of the load bearing posts in the little basement apartment. I stopped just in time. On the post was a plaque. I read it. I couldn't have missed it; it was two inches in front of my nose. It said, "Beware the barrennesss of a busy life." I didn't realize then how important those words would become. The last seven years have been probably the busiest of my life. When I came to the East Valley seven years ago, I was an unemployed truck driver, and I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I wanted to return to my profession, but I really didn't want to go back to the public school system, so I decided to go into technical training. I went to one place after another applying to teach computers. Most of the places were companies that specialized in teaching office applications. My ignorance of the field was so profound that I did not realize that there was quite a significant pay differencial between teaching word processing to secretaries and teaching high end systems to engineers. I almost ended up in the wrong direction, but I was saved by my complete inability to get a job. I remember once I answered an ad for a AS400 trainer. I had not idea at that time what AS400 was, but I figured it had something to do with computers. They asked me about my experience. I admitted that I didn't have any, but I offered to learn it. My efforts seem comical to me now, but I really was dead serious. I knew that I could do the job; I just couldn't convince anyone else of that, partly because of my complete ignorance. Finally a friend of mine whom I had met at the Arizona Professional Employment Network told me that I needed to get some kind of certification. I didn't want to go to that trouble, but I finally resigned myself to it. I spent a number of months studying 15 hours a day, and took the tests for my Microsoft certification. That is what made the difference.

Now I have made another big change. Beijing, China. I am forty-nine years old. Well, Matteo Ricci was forty-nine when he arrived in Beijing in 1601, so I guess I am in good company. He was into technology too, but his thing was clocks. I cannot begin to guess where this will lead, but I am convinced that there is a reason I am supposed to be here, and that I am doing the right thing at the right time. Funny how the conviction that you are doing the right thing somehow actually creates the confidence that tends to bring success. When I moved to Arizona seven years ago, I was really in a cloud. I felt like Albert Einstein, who said, "How do I work? I grope." I was definitely groping. I was a "mite bewildered at times," as Daniel Boone once said when asked if he had ever been lost. But I was never discouraged. God is a
God of purpose. "I will work, and who shall let it?" (Is 43:13)